A day in the life of
by Leprechaun123
Summary: Random day in a Captain Swan life. Completely AU.


**Right so it's been a while since I've posted anything and this is my first oneshot for this particular couple/tv show. My inspiration has been completely dry for the last number of years but an essay title for school combined with too much fanfiction created this. My little AU family experience. No names involved but I know who I wanted it to be. Basically Henry is younger, Killian and Emma are together for a while, Killian is Henry's father and they live in a city. I'll leave you to it now.**

Silence. A dark street awaits the first sign of life. The neon orange casts its beam on the abandoned cars and well kept lawns. A yellow light beam suddenly alerts the world to the wakening of its inhabitants. A key scrambles through a lock. A door slams. A car starts and then silence once again. The world holds its breath. The first chirp of the morning sounds and then life bursts from all directions.

The lone yellow light is joined by a million others. That single car is drowned out by the thrum of the rest of them. Eventually the sun arrives like a last minute guest at a party. The yellow and orange are overpowered one by one as the sun begins to mingle. One door after another opens and shouts of greetings are thrown about. Children catch buses to venture to school. Adults of every shape and size run to subways and cars to endure another day of the mundane. One car in particular catches my eye; a bright yellow Beetle with the sun bouncing of the roof, blinding me. From my perch, I watch a young woman stumble out the door as she pulls on her jacket. In her haste, she keeps missing the second sleeve and as I watch, a man of a similar age saunter out of the blue door behind her. He holds up the jacket sleeve and she slips her arm through. Gratefully, she gives him a chaste kiss and then is pulled by the arm to the car by a boy not much older than eight. Laughing, she allows herself to be yanked away. As she drives away, the man waves with an expression that can only be described as adoration. He waits until the car has disappeared from view before turning away and going back inside.

Intrigued by this car, I set off on my search of the metal yellow sun. I zoomed over grey buildings filled with arguments and passionate speeches; past billowing trees and rippling fountains; across lawyers, doctors, waitresses, teachers and shop-keepers. The noise of the city echoed in my ears as I venture closer and closer to my hidden treasure. Finally I find it, standing out like a singer on stage amongst the blues, blacks and silvers of ordinary lives; my shining beacon. I find a spot to observe the car. It stops on the busy highway surrounded by others embarked on their daily chores. It crawls along so slowly that I am certain that I see a snail pass it. It makes its way to the slip road and like the cars around it, the indicator flashes on and off. The car picks up speed and as it begins to fade, I quickly pursue it. My beacon pulls into a carpark of a school. The door is flung open and the boy scrambles out, his bag hitting every surface as he does. A hurried farewell and a slammed door, then he's gone. She is left alone. A sad smile covers her face and then she moves on, ready for the day.

The car re-enters the mass of dull, unadventurous vehicles and it makes better distance. I track its movements until it stops outside a police station. The woman parks the car, locks it and then is lost in the crowd as she joins her comrades. I watch the yellow vision. The city moves on as I wait. The sun gets higher in the sky, its beam burning me. The city gets louder and then quietens down as everyone settles in. My gaze shifts to the police station doors and its surroundings.

A familiar face appears on the street and takes up residence on the bench opposite the doors. The brown paper bag he holds turns translucent with its contents. The door of the precinct swings open and as the eyes of the young couple meet, both sets light up. She bounced down the steps to greet him as he stands up. With a flourish, he presents the brown paper package and her grin lights up the street, challenging the sun to beat its glow. She links her arm with his and together they blend in with the bustle of the lunchtime crowd. The yellow car sits steady against the breeze that picks up. The leaves rock with the wind. Clouds drift above me. Traffic starts to build up below me. Families meet for lunch; associates discuss job opportunities and woes; torrid affairs echo through the air; all oblivious to each other. The streets bustle with noise again as shop doors are propped open to let in the cool breeze against the sun's heat. The customers chatter floats out for the world to hear.

My observation of the surroundings cause me to miss the farewell of young love as lunchtime ended. My glance back to the precinct showed the man alone, gazing wistfully at the swinging door. Finally, he turns and walks away. My gaze goes back to my little yellow sun, waiting for her next call. I sit and wait. Slowly the city settles again. The sounds of pens tapping paper in thought and frustration filter out through open windows. A bus pulls up and school children pour out on a trip the museum down the road. Their chatter ruptures the soundless street. Their bags bounce against their sides as they skip and run, leaving their teacher in the dust. They disappear around the corner and then it's quiet again. The cars have dwindled down to the occasional one or two. Time passes on. Suddenly the children are back, although slightly quieter than before; their adventure has tired them. Slowly they file back onto the bus again, the teacher counting them as they pass her. The bus pulls out into the traffic that has begun to appear once more.

The sun begins to drop. The face comes back but now attached to his hand, retelling him a story of the day gone by, is the boy bounding along beside him. His excitement from the story is evident from the grin on his chubby little face. The man laughs in the right spots and yet clearly shows his impatience by constantly glancing at wooden doors, expecting them to open. As they wait, the sun continues its descent. The shops close over their doors; the rush hour traffic slows down and the bustle of people dwindles off. Soon it is just them on the street, sitting on their bench, swapping stories. At last the door opens and the woman trudges out. She greets them with a smile and then a laugh, as the child leaps into her arms. A kiss on the cheek is exchanged and I wait for them to enter the Beetle; to go home. But they turn down the street, the child between the two of them. His small hands clutching on to theirs. Curious as to why they are leaving my shining star, I follow them. The wander down the road to a local diner. They go into it and settle at a booth by the window. I find a height where I can watch them. Through the intermittent red, yellow and green, I gaze at them while the city slows down around them. The child stares out the window at the cars zooming past and then settles down to eat. They sit for hours until the sun plunges them into darkness.

Once the child's head begins to droop, they decide it's time to go. The street lights is all there is to show the path back to the car. They return to my loyal sun, her light never extinguished. The child is placed in the back and then they join him in the car. I track the car as it flies past the grey buildings; still trees and fountains; streets empty of the workers. The silence is louder than the noise of before. Finally, they arrive home. The child is carried into the house and their's is the last yellow light on the street once again. I wait. It goes out. Once again it's silent. I take one last look at my shining beacon and think maybe tomorrow, I'll follow the green light down the road.

 **Et volia! Despite not having any names, this story was inspired a certain pair. Also there are a couple of hidden details. I would love for people to tell me if they found them, especially if they understood the reference from one of my favourite books. If not, just review please!**


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